Shades of Melancholy
by Iamawriter1
Summary: A different way Justin may have reacted after the Bashing.


Greater Shades of Melancholy  
  
It looks like paint. A water colour maybe, because it's far too thin to be oil based. The colour is amazing, a pure and brilliant crimson.  
  
Pure. Something I'm certainly not.  
  
But no matter what I've done, no matter what happens to me, It's always the same. It's always that brilliant red. So now, if I get scared or confused as to where I am, I can cut myself. I carry a penknife in my pocket all the time, so I always have access to the fountain of clarity. I'm careful not to push too deep. To do so would mean death, and I'm not sure I want to die like that. Sometimes I think about the gun mom keeps in the her dressing table drawer. She doesn't know I've seen it in there, but I have.  
  
"Hi Justin" Molly says, voice tinged with trepidation. I jump, not expecting an interruption. Had I left the door open? I look up and smile a strange smile, but it fades away when I see she's no alone.  
  
"Go to your room Molly." Mom says, stepping in front of Molly in a move to protect her. To protect her from me?  
  
"But.."  
  
"Go to your room." Mom's Country Club façade of calm shimmers for a moment, threatening to shatter. Molly goes. "Justin, what are you doing?" She asks slowly. My fingers on my hand -my gimp hand-- begin to twitch.  
  
"I'm going out." I say, wondering why she's being so weird. I watch tears begin to dribble down her cheeks, quietly marveling at the strange sight. The tears were black with mascara and they slid down her pale face -so pale it was almost grey--. I follow her gaze and realise she was staring at my arm. The one with the gimp hand. I look down and my stomach plummets when I see that my long sleeves have ridden up to reveal eight perfect silver pink -the colour of a dying rose-- scars running up the inside of my arm.  
  
Mom opens her mouth to say something, but I don't want to hear it. She doesn't understand. Nobody could possibly understand. Before she can say a word, I shove past her and run through the house until I'm in the thick, suffocating air of the world outside. My sides begin to hurt as I continue to tear down the city streets, but I'm beyond caring.  
  
She knows. Oh dear God, she knows.  
  
And I know that now she'll send me away. She'll send me away to some mental institution, a world of dull grey and clinical white. Then I'd never see Molly or Daphne or - or Brian. I had to see him. I veer around a corner and run faster, pushing myself harder than I ever thought possible. My throat and eyes burn, my lungs feel as though they're going to burst and the pounding of my feet on the pavement jars through my body painfully. But I press on.  
  
Occasionally, I come close to panicking if I see someone who looks like HIM. Every corner I turn, I half expect HIM to be standing there with a base ball bat in his hands and a smirk on his face.  
  
As I cross the street, I realise with a jolt that this was just like it. Like my nightmare. The one where I go to Brian's apartment and HE drags me inside. Mostly I wake up by then. But yesterday, things got worse in my world of nightmares. Yesterday, my dream went further than ever before.  
  
///"Chris! Where's Brian!" I screamed, scrabbling around and searching for an escape. Chris leers above me, his face splitting into a hideous smile that makes me start to cry and shout. I look around me and they're all there, standing in a semi-circle behind me. Mom, Dad, Molly, Daphne, Debbie, Vic, Emmett, Ted, Michel.and Brian. They're just standing there, ignoring my pleas for help. I try to shake them awake, try to get them to help, but they just ignore me and continue to talk with each other.  
  
"You're alone, faggot. All alone." Chris mocks, his voice warped and inhuman. He grabs me and throws me to the floor, ripping off my clothes and whispering disgusting things in my ear. He steps back and laughs at me, the laughter of my loved ones mingling with his. I turn and see that they're pointing and laughing at me as I lie naked, terrified and colder than I had ever been.and then I wake up.///  
  
After what seems like an eternity, I reach Brian's door. I lift my hand to knock but I the memory of my terrible dream makes my halt in my movements. I slump to the cold concrete, my hands steadying me from falling onto my face. I try to get my breath back form all the running, but I can't manage it and so I lean back against the wall and shut my eyes. I don't think I mind if I die here right now. My life is over anyway.  
  
"If there's someone out here then.Justin?" Brian's voice, calling me from so far away. "JUSTIN!"  
  
"Don't let her send me away." I whisper to him pleadingly. I hate sounding so fucking child-like.  
  
"Who? What are you talking about? What the fuck is going on?" Brian nearly screamed, his face white.  
  
"She saw them, Brian. She saw and now she thinks I'm crazy. She'll send me away." I said, my voice breaking on the last word. Brian's face was still full of confusion, but he pulled me roughly into his embrace anyway. He held me while I cried, hauling me to my feet and into his apartment.  
  
And I knew that no matter what happened, I could breathe in there. In his apartment of blue light and black surfaces, I was safe.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED 


End file.
